Effortlessly
by writewhatyoulove
Summary: When the world ends, Rachel never really thought she'd find anything normal again. She never thought things would be easy, that love was still a possibility. But finding Beth Corcoran unscathed and alone, Rachel is ready to believe that anything is possible.
1. Day One

Day: 1

Time: 3:37 PM

The city was once an escape from everything. The skyscrapers held such great meaning; they held such power. Like if I lived among them, absolutely nothing could hurt me like things used to. I would have made it, me. Out of everyone that graduated Lima, Ohio, Rachel Berry truly did make all her dreams come true; in spite of everyone and all the bullying. Lima would sing my praises while I lived among the cityscape, they'd pretend that they adored me, rather than toss slushie's in my face. They would regret not believing in me.

These skyscrapers, that now held such sorrow, such immensely great pain, would be my salvation. The whites and greys would be the coating of my shields, and I would be stronger than ever.

But I was crumbling now. Their walls molded over, the lights had been off for months, and the walls that were once so pure were now tainted in blood. Splatters, pools, splashes of human blood. They would be stained, and they would no longer stand as tall and as proud as before.

It was this that had everything about me breaking down.

New York looked so beautiful at night; not a star in the sky because they were all performing that evening, busy in the glaring stage lights, singing to a full house. New York now was haunting; every star that once shone brightly on a stage was now clearly visible up in the black sky, and the sounds of their murderers lurked about every corner. Down every alley, in every building, lost in the sewers; the murderers of those of the greats creeped about, looking for their next victim.

In the movies you expected what was to come. News stations would be broadcasting every second of a new disease, the government would blame one of two things; biological warfare via terrorism, or a new drug no one had heard about before.

In the movies, everyone learned how to kill them, how to protect themselves. One good shot to the head. Clean and clear cut. And in those movies, there was always someone that was an amazing shot. Someone that miraculously, with no experience of any kind, could aim, shoot, and kill each and every zombie they planned to.

Real life was nothing like this. Real life was slow. Painful. I had seen it myself, how the disease spread.

It was a bad flu year, everyone was getting sick. A new strandit seemed. The name hadn't mattered anymore, I could call it the otter flu and it wouldn't matter. Because no one was alive to hear it. New York fell much too quickly.

When the flu first hit, it was children. Parents kept them from school, took them to doctors; doctors made them wear masks, but still nurses caught it from the children,adults from the nurses, andso on. And soon it reached the teachers. One by one schools began to shut down. The breeding of the disease was quick, but the symptoms, God the symptoms looked painful.

Coughing, fever, nausea, body aches and pains, vomiting, diarrhea. Everything one would expect from a really bad case of the flu, only amplified. But when the hospitals began to fill with more and more patients, they found most were paranoid innocent human beings, who would surely catch the virus now that they'd walked into a tainted waiting room. Soon the cops had to come and create borders for the hospitals, single file lines, ID checks, symptom checks before even stepping foot into the waiting rooms. There were tents for those that had something completely unrelated, forced to stay outside in the New York chill of September because the hospitals were already so contaminated.

The police force fell soon after, and New York was declared a state of emergency. No one could go in, no one could go out. What the good mayor of New York hadn't known was that people began running before it reached this level of horror, and business men and women who only travelled for a short stay were long gone by now. So movies had gotten at least some portion of it all right; the spreading of the disease was quick.

What I wished they'd warned everyone of was the rapid change and growth of the virus.

Flu shots were given out everywhere, made on high demand. Every doctor out there all but demanded the citizens of New York to go out and get a shot; they couldn't have known, but if they hadn't told the people to do this, I couldn't help but wonder what would be different.

The disease that acted as the flu was clearly not what it first seemed. The shots given out had only morphed it into something worse. Some kind of flesh eating disease.

Another thought that crossed my mind more often than I cared for was whether or not I was lucky. Upon my arrival to the sterile tents, they had just run out of the shots. It created chaos, and ultimately many of those that hadn't caught the flu yet (one's much like myself) had grown outraged, and began to riot right on the spot.

Kurt had felt so guilty for asking to stand in front of me, he'd had a long planned trip to Lima coming up, and his biggest fear was whatever it was exactly being passed around. Blaine had already gotten sick, and was in the tent across the way. The tent meant for those that had already been exposed to the severe flu.

The entire walk home he said I should have gone first, how he hated himself for being so greedy. Now, I was the one hating myself. I hated myself for feeling relief that I hadn't gotten a shot. I hated myself for being thankful that they'd run out before me. I hated that it all meant that I was thankful Kurt had gotten his.

In the three weeks that followed, open sores appeared all over Kurt's skin, and Blaine had started to feel some relief. Apparently the severe flu died down the longer it was in your system, and remained dormant unless you fell ill once more. Or unless you were given a shot. No one understood it. No one even tried after things turned chaotic.

The hospitals were no longer helpful, they closed their doors, secured them with what little police force was left, and the rest of us had to fend for ourselves.

When Blaine wasn't at Kurt's bedside, doing what he could to ease the pain in his lover's eyes, he was out fighting for supplies. Riots occurred every other day at any given time, leaving me to stick to sewers should things ever get hairy. It was hardly the life I'd dreamed when I was young, walking around dirty, almost painfully disgusting scented tunnels. The rats were nothing compared to the knowledge of what I was walking through just to get home.

Once Kurt's sores spread, and the sight had become nearly impossible to look at, his fury came. Another point movies always got wrong. There was no heroic smile, showing everyone that they would be okay in due time. There wasn't a speech, or a hand being held. There was rage. Kurt's temper was so quick to be brought up, so easily accessible to him that only Blaine could stand to be around him. The few friends I'd made at NYADA and myself could barely step foot in the room without being attacked verbally. Of course, Blaine had been too, he simply stronger and more willing to face it all. A respectable trait that I now envied him for.

I don't think I'd ever know if the rage was due to the pain, or if it were simply part of the virus. When Kurt had passed away, Blaine cried for hours. It wasn't until a loud gasp of breath sounded from the bed that Blaine's sobbing subsided, only to be replaced with panicked calls of Kurt's name. It was when he didn't respond coherently that Blaine moved back to his bedside, face full of apologies ready to spill out for assuming the worst. But the moment he'd reached the side of the full sized bed, Blaine fell backwards, landing firmly on his butt with a thud.

The screech of...I still couldn't describe it, of pain? Of fury? Whatever it was of, it had been burned into all of our memories; haunting us for many nights. It still does to me this day. Blaine having gotten some relief when his fever struck.

There was so much that movies got wrong, but what was the most terrifying of all was the feeding. The reanimated bodies of the beloved dead didn't resort to the basic need to feed, they relied solely on a fight or flight system. They were animals. Animals that felt hunted.

And they were.

Everyone that hadn't gotten sick at least owned a gun, and the reanimated animals resorted to attacking. They attacked the living, the dead, humans, animals, everything. They didn't eat. They were already decayed, nothing worked other than small synapses in the brain. Basic needs were remembered, but food seemed to barely phase the animals at all. Food seemed to repulse them. So when Kurt had began to lunge at Blaine, his hands outstretched, mouth gnashing against each other in ferocious snaps, it wasn't out of hunger, but out of wanting to tear Blaine's flesh from his bones in any way possible.

The sight had been horrifying, and I still wasn't sure how Brody had gotten himself and Blaine out of the room without so much as a scratch. Kurt's screeching and pounding on the bedroom door had told me more than I wanted to know.

My best friend was dead.

My best friend was a monster.

And I hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye.

Two weeks passed from then to now, Brody, Blaine and myself had found solace in an old folks home. It was easier to fight off the elderly, though I took very little part in the actual killing of anyone. Instead I simply used my size, stealth and speed to run around the city sewers and collect what I could. Blaine had always gone with me, his protective nature shining through. I knew why, it's what Kurt would have wanted. It's what the love of his life would have asked for if he would have been able to.

There weren't many animals roaming about just yet. A few would pop up every so often, but the disease was always slow; and doctors always swore that they could cure whatever it was that tormented those that had fallen ill.

"Lights are back," Brody's words weren't necessary, but his eyes showed that he needed to speak. The silence of the home clearly beginning to get to him.

Outside riots broke out, our boarded windows never gave us any clues as to where it happened or what was going on; but the crashing sounds of bottles against walls, the tumbling of metal trashcans and shouts of living people told us all we needed to know. It was hell on Earth outside of these now lit walls.

"Food," Blaine stuck to one syllable words as often as possible, the energy for anything more seeming to be too much for him. Of course, when most of your time is spent working out, keeping fit and running missions, I guess it made sense that talking just didn't seem all that worth it.

Brody stood from his dusty armchair, his gaze no longer lost along the gloomy walls, and he moved to take one of the five cans that Blaine and I managed to scavenge. Hunting was never something I enjoyed doing, so whenever I was the one to join Blaine on an outing, we stuck to stores; whenever we could that was.

"I think we should look for a battery operated radio, maybe there's something coming through?" My tone was far too hopeful, both men looked at me with stone faces, they'd seen more destruction than I had, they'd seen what people were capable of now; clearly it wasn't pretty.

"I'm thinking we find a map, or an atlas. Something. It's getting less and less safe here." Brody argued, opening up a can of corn with his knife, opting to use the microwave to heat it in a plastic bowl. May as well now that there was the option to.

Every few days the power would go off, no one manning the generators or feeding fossil fuels to burn, meaning worldwide blackouts periodically. There were reports about Nevada, Arizona and California not suffering these kinds of outings. Lucky them.

"We can pick those up at a gas station can't we?"

"What gas station have you seen out there that isn't overrun by bandits claiming it as their own castle, Rachel?" Brody's voice is firm, almost too loud; a fact he recognizes himself as he steps back and wipes at his lips with his palm. There's a shadow there now, making him look far more rugged and ultimately more handsome than before. Though it seemed impossible, considering he was quite beautiful when I'd first met him.

"Sewers, Brody." Blaine reminded the boy, his own features looking far more wild than he used to let them. Hair gel had apparently seemed pointless now, trying to keep his thick curls under control in a world of chaos did seem rather pointless indeed.

He'd been different like that since Kurt's death. The bow ties were gone, he now wore fitting pants and running shoes. Slowly he began to look more and more like a guy's guy. Not some preppy doll from the fifties. I never minded his attire, it matched my own at some point in sophomore and junior year. But lately he seemed to care less and less about his appearance, this much given away from the thick beard growing each day around his face.

I didn't see the appeal of so much hair, but I guess I understood the freeing sense they must have. Not having to worry about shaving because well, there really was no need to. It wasn't as though they'd be going to a job any time soon.

Brody's frustrated form moved before me, reaching for his now hot bowl of corn and spooning mouthful after mouthful. "We need a plan."

"Why don't you and Blaine go out tomorrow and look for a map? We can come up with a list of the best places to find them. I suppose gas stations are out..."

Brody seemed fine with this idea, no doubt more so due to the fact that he'd be killing more than likely. It was demented, and I grew increasingly more worried over it, but somehow in this new world killing the animals that tore flesh from human skin relieved an immense amount of stress from the once Broadway aspired singer.

"Dawn?"

"Dawn."


	2. Day Fourteen

I wasn't planning on writing anything regarding my choices, but for those that won't log in to their accounts for me to send this to them privately, I will put this here. For those that don't want spoilers, skip this. I will never understand why 'guest' reviewers take the time out of their day to review on a fic they aren't enjoying. Typically I just exit out of it and find something I'd prefer to read, however you all seem more interested in telling me how to write my fic. Well, readers like this need to learn that this is my creative work, and while many people hate Brody, he is included in this fic. In fact I even listed him as a character so if he is someone you'd prefer to avoid seeing, then I cannot understand why you even clicked to read. But let me move on before my rant gets too long. Brody is a part of this fic, and he is a mainish part for the first few chapters (up until about chapter four or five depending on where my mind takes the current idea I have in mind). If you can be respectful enough to not send hate, then feel free to stick it through. A bigger spoiler is that he will have a gruesome death, so there is that to look forward to if you truly hate his character that much. And as far as his character being OOC, we cannot know how the apocalypse would affect a characters psyche, however my opinion is that Brody would deteriorate in his humanity and lose any semblance of empathy decently quickly. Now, not that I needed to defend my work nor explain this to you, I end my rant. If any more hate is posted as a guest, I won't delete it because you do have your right to voice it, but why you would spend your time doing that instead of looking for a fic you'd rather read instead is beyond me.

* * *

Day: 14  
Time: 10:23 PM

I suppose in most people's lives there's a moment of clarity. A moment where everything begins to make sense, and that goal that keeps you going, that keeps you moving despite how much the odds were stacking against you, lives in you more than your own soul. I hadn't found this moment, though after two weeks of the world essentially ending, I guess I shouldn't have been so hopeful.

Brody had found his. That one thing to keep him motivated. His sister. Lost somewhere in Maine, he'd wanted nothing more than to go find her. And if she was no longer among the living, he'd do right by her. Bury her, say a few words, and put her body to rest. It was something he spoke of often, mostly when night came around and sounds of the animals crooned and snarled. It unnerved him, but it terrified me.

Sleep was hardly anything I'd come by, not lately. Especially not with as many near death experiences we've both run into. Brody was strong, but he couldn't always be able to slam a door on a herd of the undead. My speed would dwindle without proper nutrients, both of us have lost quite a bit of weight.

We'd thought of using the tunnels at first. Without electricity, it would be safe to walk along the echoing halls of the trains underground roads; but without anyone to turn the pumps on, New York City's subway stations quickly filled with water. I hadn't realized how much people did on a daily basis before now. Without people powering things, feeding the machinery, there wasn't any light. There wasn't any electricity. There was only darkness and silence. And removal of valuable hiding spaces. The reality was far more terrifying than the idea.

When there's nothing left to block out the sounds of the rummaging dead, you were forced to listen.

The scuffling of their feet had always been the worst at night. Surrounded in pitch black, I could never tell if they were just outside the door Brody and I hid behind, or if they were a few feet away. The sounds were always so amplified, and my eyes saw nothing but the black of the night.

Was this what Blaine had removed himself from? Was this overwhelming feeling of fear that never ceased or dulled the reason he pulled the trigger just a few days ago? Or was it because somewhere in his mind he knew Brody would keep me safe? That he'd see Kurt again in some kind of afterlife and would feel complete again? I had so many questions, and Brody had terrified me from asking him any of them. A loud punch to the wall stopping all words in my throat.

The loss of Blaine hurt Brody far more than it probably should have, Blaine was my best friends lover. My best friends soulmate; surely I had more reason to cry, more reason to be angry at what the world had become, but something in Brody broke. Something shattered his being and when he thought I was asleep, I could hear his soft murmurs. The ones claiming he couldn't do it, that he wasn't strong enough, damning Blaine for putting myself in his hands alone. I was never sure if I should have felt insulted or guilty for being such a burden. It couldn't be easy, having to watch over another human life when you were surrounded in pitch black, forced to listen to the atrocities of the world.

It was something I would more than likely never understand, I only ever had to take care of myself, Brody always being the one that ensured my safety, never giving me the chance to return the favor. It had never bothered me, until the nightmares.

Not mine, mine were always selfish, always about me, my fathers and nothing more. But Brody? Brody put everything on his shoulders, Blaine's suicide, Kurt's death, our base getting overrun. Despite it having been none of his fault, Brody took the brunt of it all, I'd be a fool not to see it in his eyes.

When the scuffling distanced, I could feel his worn eyes on me again, something about that stare always making me feel so insignificant. The care he showed me, despite my burden to him, was so incredibly awe-inspiring I could never meet his gaze. "We're going to find a home tomorrow." He said point blank, eyes never leaving my face. Not that I could see it, it was the hairs stranding at attention all over my neck and arms that gave him away. "I'm going to make you pancakes."

His voice was so sure, so ready for what was to come that I couldn't be certain what he meant by it. It all sounded so normal, a vast difference from what I'd come to expect from him. "What about finding a new shelter? We can't hide in a single room, Brody."  
I could meet his gaze now, simply because the hairs no longer prickled my arm, and in the black I could just make out his head; turned away from my very perplexed features. "We can make that our new shelter. I think in the daylight, when we can see everything, they'll be easier to avoid. We need to find weapons too, and you need to learn how to shoot."

The shattering of some sort of glass just down the hallway, outside of the door we've locked ourselves in caused both of us to brace our back against the walls, legs readying themselves to shove our bodies up and out the first floor window if necessary. Though I wasn't sure I'd move if that moment came. I could barely even breathe now, my muscles over my chest so tight I swore I was turning to stone. And when the sound of the door knob jiggling came, I knew I would die in this spot. Every inch of me was frozen, despite knowing that we'd locked the door I still pictured the creature walking in, his low snarls sounding as he searched for something to kill. But that moment never came, and Brody's arm was securely around my shoulders while we listened to the defeated footsteps sulk away.

We were the hunted now, and I wasn't positive that I wouldn't become prey.  
"We need to leave," Brody sighed, his head falling back to the wall. He was careful not to make a sound from it.

"It's too dark, I can barely see my hands." My voice was whiny, a hushed whisper of fear."We need flashlights."

"They're in the kitchen."

"Matches?"

"Living room."

"Dammit!" Brody shouted through his whispered tone, punching at the air before running his dirty fingers through his greasy hair. Mine wasn't fairing much better. "We need to get out of here."

"In the morning-"

"We might not make till morning, Rachel." This time he hadn't whispered, and I swore the entire house went dead silent. I didn't need to hear Brody's voice to know what he'd be saying right now if he trusted his voice. "It's time to go."

"It's too dark!"

"Dammit, Rachel, move." And with a heavy shove, Brody had me running to the only window in the confined room, opening it for us to squeeze through before nearly throwing myself out. The volume of his voice had definitely attracted attention, and the loud shrieking voices of the animals echoed out behind us, drawing more and more attention to the place I had called home for two weeks.

I've always been clumsier than Brody, who has and more than likely always would, make running for your life look graceful. Each step of his seems unfairly calculated, while mine seemed to have some sort of obstacle in the way. A root, a rock, a dip in the yard, anything that could possibly make me stumble existed at all times. He once made a joke about throwing me over his shoulder to help me keep up with his long strides, but I couldn't know that the joke would become serious.

His strong arm wrapped around my middle, effectively lifting me from the moist grass I'd recently come face to face with, and he swung my body up and around with such ease I couldn't stop myself from wondering just how much weight I'd lost.

The yards surrounding the old folks home were unkept, though it was understandable since people had either rushed off to live in the military camps, died, or were fleeing like myself and Brody. He'd never trusted the military, when it was found out that they'd be allowing uninfected into the military bases around the U.S., he called it bullshit, and that it was a sure way of getting yourself killed if you even sniffled. I wasn't so sure. I was hopeful that some pride was still held in our country, that somewhere there still was a sense of what America was.

I wasn't a patriot, not until it mattered. Mostly I said the Pledge of Allegiance when obligated to, and celebrated the Fourth of July. But other than these minute details, I could hardly be described as a patriotic kind of person. So where the faith came from, I couldn't tell, but it was there, more than likely instilled from grade school where you're taught that America only had two major hiccups. Slavery, and the stealing of land from the Indians.

When Brody's pace slowed, and I felt my feet being placed back on the lumpy ground of some strangers yard, I was able to see that there weren't many out here like we had always assumed. "Where are they?"

"Probably out in the cities. They seem to be attracted to one another. Like they travel in herds or something." Brody scratched at his growing scruff, shaved only after Blaine's suicide. "This place looks pretty promising, though, don't you think?"

It did. The gate was neat, the wood holding still; no sign of rotting or termite damage. And the house itself was actually quite beautiful. White on the outside, that much I could make out, and there were many windows circling it, something that would ultimately vanish as time went on. Brody boarded everything, including doors if they weren't necessary. The sunlight that would seep in in the mornings would be forced out, and soon I'd lose track of the time of day. Just like the past weeks.

"What if someone's in there?" I asked naively, knowing that human life, real human life, had been so scarce these days Brody and I may as well have been the last people near the city.

"If someone's inside we pray they're friendly. If they're not, well..." His eyes searched the ground, only satisfied when he had a sturdy, large rock in his hand. "I could use a stress reliever."

My eyes widened as I stared into his, looking for some hint of a joke, some sort of glimmer that he didn't mean it. Yes he'd killed before but what he killed was already dead. I wasn't sure I could handle knowing he could so easily take another living breathing human life. Actually no, I was positive that I couldn't take it. "What?!" I shrieked, crouching down into the grass as I realized my mistake. "You are not going to kill another human being!"

"I do it all the time."

"They're not human!"

"What are they then?" The skepticism in his voice had me fuming, my nostrils flaring with my heavy breaths as I contemplated punching him on the spot.

"They're animals."

He simply rolled his eyes, but kept the hefty rock in his hands for precaution. I knew he wouldn't use it. Not unless it was of the undead. If there was one thing I could count on, it was always getting my way where Brody was concerned.

His crouched form slowly moved ahead of me, head swiveling to and fro. It made me think of a sprinkler, moving side to side, covering as much as he could. The front door was nice, a thick heavy wood, something not seen often around these parts. And as Brody reached for the doorknob, holding his rock above his head in preparation, I could only stay back and watch in horror. I once knew that he'd never purposefully hurt anyone, now...now I wasn't so sure.

Luckily, the door wasn't locked, which could only mean vacancy, but by the way Brody paused in the entryway, I could tell that he'd heard something. "What is it?" I whispered, granted a quick shushing sound before he began moving again.

And when I moved on with him, I saw why he paused. Just in the front doorway, along the floral wallpaper that showed just how dated this home was, laid a body, bloodied, bludgeoned and rotted. The smell was atrocious, but the sight was worse. The older woman's face was torn to shreds, an eye missing, mouth ripped. There were scratches all over her, like someone had tried to dig through her flesh and bones with their bare hands.  
Tears began welling as I continued staring, unable to avert my gaze from the horrifying sight. She had hair missing from random places on her head, and I could see the bone where she had so clearly been ripped and bitten at on her forehead.

The sudden falling of a blanket over the deceased form had finally broken my trance, Brody flashing me a sympathetic gaze before tossing his head in the direction of what looked to be the kitchen. I hadn't heard it at first, but the further we made it into the house, the more aware I was of a low constant hum of a voice. A human voice.

Coming from the basement.


	3. Day Fourteen (Part Two)

**Tigger Warning:** Suicide/Family Death

* * *

Day 14

Time: 10:34 PM

Neither one of us made any sort of move to the basement door, too afraid of what laid beyond it. The human voice still went on, a constant hum breaking the silence of this new world of darkness. Brody kept his hand up towards me, the only signal he ever gave me; don't move. Not that I would have, I've come to grow used to the fact that I'm utterly useless in this world. I didn't fight, and now that the streets were littered with the animals I barely ever got to go out for supplies. There was never any part of me that had wanted to try and fight for a larger roll, not until Brody's nightmares. Mostly, I did what I could to keep him sane, but I never once put the effort to say I wanted to fight more, kill what was left out there. But then, Brody never thought I had the mental or physical strength to do so.

His body moved forward suddenly, opening the door to the basement. Somehow the action seemed to make more noise than anything else had this entire evening. However, the voice grew louder than his movements, not once stopping; whoever it was hadn't heard us at least. That was good. For us anyways.

He began to move down the steps as slowly as he could, his warning hand falling slightly while he kept the rock tightly in his grasp with the other. I prayed that he'd only use it on a threat, but I couldn't be sure anymore. His humanity was touch and go, and that frightened me more than the voice down these steps did.

It shouldn't, Brody had protected me this far. He'd never threatened my life, had never so much as cursed me for anything. There were the few shouting matches we would get in, but that was to be expected in high stress situations. I had always known myself to be difficult, and I certainly wasn't the easiest to live with; the mere fact that Brody hadn't bailed spoke louder than anything else. If I let myself think back to the friends I had in high school, I couldn't be sure they'd be as patient with me as he has been through everything.

When his form grew too far out of reach for my own comfort, I began to follow him down the steps, his burly arms warm under my hand's touch. I felt him flinch slightly, but nothing more than that. He hadn't expected the physical contact, but he still refused to look away from in front of him. I wondered what went through his mind at moments like these, moments when there was complete silence and he could do nothing more but prepare himself for a fight. I wouldn't even know what to think, I'd probably overthink and wind up dead before getting a single punch in. Not that I knew how to properly throw one. The fact that I'd survived this long was a miracle. And I had Brody to thank, along with Blaine.

At the last step, Brody froze, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. But the longer we stood there, the more attention I paid to that voice; and the moment that it finally hit me, the moment I finally let myself hear just who was speaking, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Much like when I heard the screeching voice of Kurt Hummel flying towards the door to kill both Blaine and Brody. This simply wasn't possible, the hoarse tone, the worn sound that showed how much worry existed in this new world. I couldn't believe my ears, and for the first time, I didn't trust my own sanity.

"Mom?"

"Shh," Brody chastised quickly.

We still couldn't see anyone, the stairs faced the basement wall, and there were two separate ways we could walk. Left, which looked like it had been unfinished. Or right, where a faint light came from. Of course that seemed impossible. There hadn't been light in Ohio for months. "Brody," I whispered, my grip on his arm tightening. I was sure my nails were digging painfully into his skin, leaving half moon shapes over his tan flesh, but I couldn't breathe. I was positive I'd faint right there if I hadn't had him to cling to. "Brody, that's my mom." I could feel his body tense, and he whispered for me to stay put, no matter what I heard. I nodded, though knew I wouldn't do it. If I heard a fight I'd have to come out and see what happened. Brody's dwindling morality was worrisome; and it was then that I finally realized I didn't trust him any longer. Not like before, not after what he'd so willingly do if another living being wasn't happy to share with us.

To him this world was kill or be killed, but I still had hope. I refused to lose myself all because others grew selfish. I wouldn't give that piece of me up. I was raised to be polite, kind, and understanding. I was not a mongrel. Though Brody didn't seem to mind turning into one.

I held back everything I could to keep myself from lunging forward just to see her. It wasn't Brody's orders that kept me in place, but the fear of what I'd see if I turned the corner. So far all that followed his body was silence, and then the soft hum of her voice again. It sounded almost as if she was talking to someone else, maybe there were survivors. Maybe this would all be over soon. The hope rose quickly, not giving me a moment to battle it down. I could feel myself grow excited at the notion of getting out of this unscathed, at being able to see my fathers again. I was certain they'd survived. They were the bravest men I knew, they faced anything that came their way head on. And if it meant protecting me, they'd give everything they had in them. Of that I was whole-heartedly positive.

The sound of shifting papers woke me from my thoughts, and I'd only now started to wonder what it was that Brody had found. I was also curious as to why my mother was still speaking as if she didn't know someone was around. Brody made enough noise to alert her to at the very least a possible threat.

Seconds later and I had pressed myself up against the corner of the staircase, fighting to not dart out and just see the one woman that I craved more than anyone. If my own mother survived, that had to be some sort of sign. How couldn't it be? She abandoned me only for us to be reunited again, when the world was meant to end at that. Why else would such a thing happen if not for the tragic story of a mother-daughter reunion?

The hope returned with a hard crash against my chest, and I refused to stay back any longer. I had to know how she did it. I had to know what she'd done to protect herself and get this far. I simply had to know everything I've never gotten the chance to ask her before. But as my wide hopeful eyes focused in on the sight before me, catching the flickering light of a dying nightlight, and the shadow of a swaying form that hung just off to the side, all hope died.

From everything that I could tell, Shelby Corcoran was a strong woman. She was powerful, a force to be reckoned with. But as I stared in horror at her twirling body, the noose making that typical eerie sound I thought only happened in movies, she looked like the complete opposite. Her face was relaxed, that much was true, but I couldn't believe that anyone could describe this as strength. Perhaps it was cruel, or selfish of me, but to see my mother hanging there, by her own choice, I couldn't believe it. I had always seen her as strong; but what had she really done? She ran from everything. She ran from her daughter when things looked scary, she ran from a teaching job in McKinley, and she ran from the apocalypse she still had so much to live for.

At least I had hoped that I was a lot. I hoped that I would be something for her to look forward to. Clearly that wasn't true. That stopped being true the moment she adopted- "Beth…" Her name passes by my lips before my anger could rise any further, and I'm suddenly thrown back to the present, Shelby's body swinging slightly before me as Brody turns suddenly from the desk he's ransacking.

"I told you to stay back!" He hissed, walking forward as if to shove me back where I was. As if that would erase what I'd already seen.

He could shove all he wanted, he could tell me to do whatever he pleased, it wouldn't change the fact that my mother hadn't found me worthwhile; it wouldn't change that I truly meant nothing to her. "I have to find Beth. She wouldn't have just left her to die. That's one thing I know she wouldn't do."

Brody's light eyes harden in confusion as his hands rest at my shoulders, firm and still trying to move me back. "I'll look for her. Just go back to the stairs. You don't need to see this." His continued efforts to shield me from the very world that we both lived in now had made something crack, a dam or whatever else could be used to describe it had burst open, and hot tears formed freely.

They rolled down my cheeks with ease not seconds later, and the arms that had gone numb at my sides woke with fury, shoving his arms off and away from me, landing firmly at his shoulders as I shoved him away from me as well. "I already have!" I spoke all too loudly, unable to hide the shrill in my voice. "I've seen it. I've seen my mother dead, I've watched my best friend die, I woke up to the sounds of Blaine killing himself. I have seen what this world has come to, so stop trying to protect me when I've already seen it all." Brody doesn't even have time to respond to my wailing before there's yet another voice - this one not the recording my mother seemed to have set up to play over an AM station - crying from the closet to our left.

His gaze moves away from the closet and back to me, uncertainty in his eyes as we both recognize the sound. It's a baby. It's Beth. It has to be.

My suspicions of Shelby having killed herself only after Beth had passed away were clearly wrong, and for some ungodly reason she hadn't even been decent enough to keep the child safe. She couldn't handle acting like a mother long enough to put her daughter in safe hands. If Quinn were here, if she had seen this...I couldn't even begin to fathom what she'd do. But the memory of her had been weirdly comforting. Seeing her younger self in my minds eye, hair long but tied in a tight ponytail, eyes stern and guarded, posture absolutely pristine. It bought the smallest of smiles to my face; because if anyone were to have survived any of this, it would be her. And somehow Beth was my proof of that fact. Quinn Fabray would not stop fighting until she saw that her daughter was safe and alive.

"She's okay," Brody called from the closet, returning with the small two year old in his arms. "Probably starving...we need to get her to stop crying before they hear it outside." I couldn't be sure, but the way Brody held the little girl, the way he spoke about her, it was like he was afraid of her. Afraid of Beth Corcoran, a two year old with no great skills, but could face off a hoard of zombies without flinching.

I don't even speak before taking the little girl into my arms, holding her tightly to my form and bouncing lightly. She's grown since I last saw her, which was admittedly far too brief. I hadn't yet been able to face the fact that my mother chose someone else's child over her own blood. The wound was still quite fresh, but seeing the astounding resemblance to Quinn had made the stinging dull some. "Hey, it's okay," I began to whisper, swaying from side to side as I spoke. Brody's face had hardened again, though for what I couldn't be sure. "You're okay. We'll find you some food soon, okay?" Her tiny fingers curled to fist my shirt as she nodded, those bright green eyes sparkling up at me now. They were truly just as beautiful as her mothers. "Do you want to check the kitchen again while I look down here? There has to be something until we can get to a store, or maybe a gas station?"

Those hardened eyes have changed again, the new look something along the lines of being in pain and somehow sympathetic. "Rachel," he started, the tone all too familiar. I'd heard my name spoken that way only once before. The girl's bathroom in McKinley High, Quinn Fabray telling me I couldn't marry Finn Hudson. While that particular woman may have been right, whatever he was even considering saying was absolutely wrong. If he thought for a single second I'd leave a defenseless little girl behind to simply die of starvation, a little girl that I knew? He had gone far more mad than I'd first assumed.

"Don't you dare,"

"We can't. We can barely feed us, we just ran from our own safe place. We don't have the capabilities-"

"I don't care what we do or don't have I won't just abandon her!" My arms tighten around her small frame, just as much as her fingers tug at my shirt to bring me in closer. "If you truly expect me to do something as completely heartless then by all means walk away, because you have seriously misjudged how easily swayed I can be and it would be easier for you to not waste your breath. No matter what you say, I will not be leaving her."

The shattering of a window had startled all of us, Beth working herself up into another fit of tears as she felt a fear we both had grown to know all too well. "You have to shut her up!" Brody scolded through hushed whispers, stomping in closer to the stairs in an attempt to listen to the commotion on the next floor. There were a few more thuds, a hum of voices, and then Beth's wails drowned out anything else. No matter how hard I rocked her, or how I swayed, she only cried more, her fear only building on my own.

It hadn't occurred to me until now that I never truly stopped crying, and how pathetic must that look? A young adult, crying soft and silent tears while clinging to a toddler wailing out her own set of tears.

I had known our situation wasn't ideal, I knew that Beth needed to be silent and that absolutely everything that could be done to make that happen should be. But what I had never even conceded was what Brody seemed all too willing to do. His face now lost in fury as the sounds of footsteps neared the stairwell door, he stormed back to the desk, reached for his rock and moved not towards the steps, but to Beth and I. "Shut up," he growled, frustration, fury, exhaustion, everything I'd seen him feel so very clear on his face in that single moment as he came in close, the rock raising over his head until I finally realized his intent and turned my back to him as swiftly as I possibly could.

The blow never landed, but I had heard a loud grunt, and an even louder thud fall to the floor behind me.

I expected me to be next, and then Beth if whoever it was behind me were cruel enough. But that moment never came, and for the smallest of moments I felt that hope bubble up again. At least until I remembered how far hope had gotten me last time. It appeared as though the universe was playing some sort of guessing game though, it was the only way to explain my hopes being dashed before, but lifted now as a soft caress came to my shoulder, tugging for me to turn around. I almost refused, but when I had turned just enough to peek at who it might have been, I felt every part of my body relax. Hysterical tears began forming then, the sight of a mohawk and the warmest worried brown eyes looking back into my own the greatest sight for sore eyes I'd ever witnessed.

"Noah."


	4. Day Fourteen (Part Three)

Day 14  
Time: 10:55 PM

Noah's eyes shift again, something along the lines of releif wafting over the firm features on his face. He, much like Blaine and Brody, had grown out his facial hair. It looked odd on him, having only ever seen his boyish nature in school,the bad boy that acted more like a child the older he got. I wasn't sure if the maturity was comforting or not, but before I could mention so he pulled me in close, Beth's cries forgotten as I felt the warmth of a pair of strong arms surrounding me.

My reaction was anything but normal, the way my arms grew almost too weak to hold onto Beth, the way my chest constricted almost too tightly on itself, and the way the tears started flowing freely. Soft sobs causing my shoulders to shake every so often. It wasn't the relief that had me crying, but the mere fact that I was being held again. Brody's affection had dwindled with each passing hour, and standing here now, being touched, soothed by an old friend; an old friend I'd known to be as amazing as he proved himself to be, it felt almost too good to be true.

Brody's groaning form started to sound from the floor, and Puck's shoulders tensed just as the sound reached his ears. The reunion cut short by Puck's protectiveness. It was a side he'd only shown me, the fact that he truly did care for my well-being; even before the end of the world.

The room fell almost too quiet then, watching Puck pull away and turn to Brody with a deadly glare, his fist clenching and unclenching, knuckles whitening each time. "Puck," I whisper as gently as I could through my silencing sobs, reduced now to a low infrequent sniffle. His eyes that had once been so soft, so incredibly gentle looked to me like I'd grown two heads. I could see how he wanted to pulverize the boy in front of him, and why shouldn't he want that? He had just watched that very same person try and murder his own daughter. A small defenseless child.

Suddenly I wondered if my humanity was wearing, because in that moment I saw nothing wrong with Puck wanting to throw a few punches. I saw absolutely nothing wrong with Brody being in danger, even after all he'd done for me. It wasn't like me, at least...I didn't think it was. What was so different in this situation than when Brody was willing to brutally murder someone that wouldn't allow us to stay here? Puck was protecting Beth and I, and Brody to an extent was protecting himself and I. It wasn't making sense how I was so quick to accept one scenario as acceptable but not the other.

I decided then that it wasn't right either way, though I felt sick to my stomach each time I remembered the way Brody came towards Beth, the rock high above his head. "He didn't know who she was, he panicked." I tried to reason, only causing Puck's face to contort further into one of disbelief. "Please, just…" My pause was involuntary, the sounds above the four of us causing the blood to freeze in my veins. Two sets of dull footsteps travelled overhead, seeming to pace from one end of the room to the other, until silence fell.

I was certain our commotion would be the reason for our untimley death. The animals above would figure us out soon enough, Shelby's recording playing in the distance, sounding as if it were growing further and further away the more frightened I became.

"Calm down," Puck sighed, arms still tight at his sides, flexing and unflexing. Brody hadn't moved from the floor, however that hadn't made Puck any more secure in his intentions. "It's just Quinn and Tina."

Quinn. The name alone was all it took for life to return again; for every horrible thing that had happened since this broke out, for every death and poor choice ever made to feel worth it. Hearing Quinn Fabray had in fact survived all of this made the world seem far less terrifying. Quinn was the strongest person I knew, the shock wasn't due to her having lived, but for me having done so long enough to see her again. "Quinn?" I ask as if to clarify that he did indeed speak her name. I needed to know it wasn't some sort of wishful thinking, hearing what I so desperately wanted to hear. And when his shoudlers finally relax, he smiles the smallest grin and I can see it again; that boyish attitude that drove most everyone crazy still lived in that stubborn boy, and I giggled in both disbelief and delight as I handed Beth to him, rushing to see the one girl that I knew would survive through all of this. The one girl that continually saved me from myself, and all the obstacles I'd had to face in high school; even herself.

My steps are loud as they rush up the basement stairs, and upon opening the door and rushing outside, my brown eyes catch sight of Quinn Fabray, rummaging through the cupboards.

Everything comes back then. The train rides full of excitement as I keep my bag close to my chest, body practically bouncing in my seat. The Yale campus overwhelming to me, laying on her bed as I watched her finish up an assignment before we caught a movie. And the most important memory, the one I'd held so dear for years, the one memory that gave me faith in finding love after Finn Hudson's ubrupt end to our relationship; Quinn Fabray's ever so soft lips on my own, firworks exploding in the background and behind my eyes as the neww year came. Midnight on every clock signalling a new start. She was beautiful, herr eyes sparkled with the hope we both held for the other, the hope and belief we held in one another, that the other would go on to do such wonderful amazing things. We both overcame so much, and we knew that without each other, we'd have never made it.

_"I want you in my future, Rachel. In any way possible, you're going to be in it." _

Her words held true now, the two sentences that showed me how great our friendship was, that showed me what we were truly capable of being. The epic roamnce I craved so wholly had been realized. And then the disease hit.

Tears begin to form yet again, only now it's out of sheer joy to see her. The girl that I'd fought so hard to befriend was still alive and capable of being that friend; and if it wasn't too late, if she still felt that way she had before, if she still wanted me in her future, then she was still there to be so much more than I could have imagined possible.

The girl that I craved to know more than anyone else, the girl that I shared a bed with while visting her in Yale, the girl that watched Twilight with me and gave me all sorts of interesting perspectives was right there, staring back at me as if she'd seen a ghost.  
"Rachel," she calls seconds before launching towards me, her arms wrapping around my middle in the tightest hug I'd ever felt before.

Everything's alive again. My heart, my mind, the fog that had existed ever since all of this started was lifting and I could see perfectly. I saw Kurt's dying form, the blood rushing and spilling from Blaine's gunshot wound, and Shelby's body swaying in the basement. Every horrible image came back to me and I couldn't keep it together any longer. I couldn't breathe with how my life had gone. This wasn't supposed to be the world when I grew up. We all fought so hard to be something and it was gone. Everything we ever wanted was just gone, and all that was left were memories.

I only register that I'm sobbing when Quinn's hand tangles in my hair, pulling me in closer to her as her arms continue to tighten around me. She feels so incredibly safe, so much like home that I'm more than willing to stop moving. To stay exactly where I was and try to start over. Build a new life after the apocalypse. I knew it wasn't possible, I knew there wasn't a chance that I'd get a normal life anymore, but that dream existed, it burned just as bright as my dream for Broadway had. "I went looking for you," Quinn whispered, a soft sniffle sounding as she burried her nose into my hair. "I wasn't allowed to go in. They weren't letting anyone in and then none of my calls were going through. I thought you died." At the sound of her voice cracking I had lost all proper thinking capabilities. Her voice was much to beautiful to be filled with so much pain, and as I pulled away I left soft comforting kisses to her shoulder, her cheek, her neck and nose. I coouldn't keep away from her. I didn't want to be anywhere that wasn't right by her side.

In the faint disttance I registered that we weren't alone, I had remembered Puck saying Tina was here with her; but her lips, and her touch, and herr voice, all much too heavenly to not be connected to. I craved her. In any way I could possibly have her, I craved Quinn Fabray, more than I craved my old life, more than I craved normalcy, more than I craved humanity; I craved Quinn Fabray.

Her hands fall to my hips, firm, holding me to this realm before I can drift off to our personal space of heaven; the one we'd found so long ago in her dorm room, lost in bed sheets and pillows while some horro flick she'd chosen played over the televisions screen. "I've missed you." She whispers, searching for my gaze that's flicking much to quickly to catch hers for longer than a second.

Disbelief is all I feel. Disbelief, relief, worry, joy. But more than anything else; love.  
The pain that Finn had left behind was hard to forget, and I doubted I'd ever find anyone that could make me feel as much as he did. But standing in Quinn's hold now, seeing her alive and well, I knew that nothing compared to this. Not even in high school. Quinn made me feel far more than I realized. She made me better, much better than I realized. And I made her just as amazing, if not more. At least, she had told me I had, during one of our many visits to each other. "I- You're-" Forming sentences is nearly impossible as I finally find those hazel eyes of home. And my now it's my hands that are incapable of staying still. They're on her cheek, slide to her shoulder, over her hip, and finally around her neck, pulling her in to another tight hug as I step up on my tip-toes to be as near to her as possible.

The silence that falls around us helps me think, helps me figure out what I want to say first; and I realize I don't want to say anything. I simply want to stand here and look at her. I want to see her and take everything to memory as much as possible. Every freckle, every green speck in her hazel eyes, every single facial expression that she's possible of making. But I can't. Our new world never game us happy endings long enough to bask in, and soon the animals that had so far stayed just outside the fence were now at the windows.

They watched us from the other side of the glass, low snarls sounding and sending chills down my spine.

Already I can feel Quinn's graps tighten around me, and the action alone causes me to feel safer than ever before. She's done this only a handful of times; the clearest memory while walking us back to my apartment, her hand resting on the small of my back as my body sways from the alcohol I've consumed that evening. Quinn never drank much, and I could only have guessed it was due to Puck and her past, but she never made me feel guilty for drinking without her.

When I first felt her hand encircle my side, I had assumed she was attempting to cuddle me, and my fingers looped through the top of her t-shirt, tugging the neck down some and revealing more cleavage than I was sure she was comfortable with. A whistling sound had come from somewhere around us, and her hold stiffened before she took me and pressed me firmly against her side, practically carrying me all the way home.

Now was not much different from then, my body was nearly connnected to hers. The dead eyes that searched for us in the window caught movement, it's head spinning to whip towards the basement door, lloking in through the kitchen window. It screeched loudly and began pounding at the glass, instantly creating a room of tension as we all turned to see Brody standing shocked at the top step, eyes wide with fright.

Odd to see now, having watched him so ready and easily kill many others.

The sounds of Beth's wails came then, and a flock behind the undead now slamming its fists against the window, cracking it with ease turned and rushed forward. "Grab something," Quinn ordered, though she kept me in her arms for a moment longer, reaching for her back only after I stepped away to allow them to take charge. I was so accustomed to this, having others fight for me, seeing Brody and Blaine take charge while I his in a corner and waited for it to be safe again. I wasn't even sure if I could swing hard enough to injure one of them, having never tried.

Puck's body ran up the steps next, his large hand holding Beth's head against his chest as he came to assess the problem. "How many?"

"Maybe six?" Tina answered. I finally recognized herr existence with a petrified wave of my hand, one she seemed to have found humorous given her lopsided grin that followed.  
"We've taken on worse," Quinn hadn't turned to face Puck just yet, clearly not wanting to get her hopes up that he was in fact holding Beth in his arms. I could see the stress over her features, the way her brows stayed perfectly still, eyes intently locked to the glass window. What none of us expected was for the front door to be knocked in, the sounds of the glass shattering before us following soon after.

More than six.

"Someone needs to shut her up!" Brody yelled with a fury I rarely saw.

Suddenly my eyes found Beth, the bright green orbs reddening from the stress and tears. I took it upon myself to hold her for Puck, and in the second he was freed of her, he reached for his back, pulling an axe from the pack I hadn't noticed before. It all felt so wrong, seeing my friends standing their with bats, axes, and knives. Brody had apparently lost his rock for the time ebing, and ran for the drawers to find any weapons possible, managing to only eqiup himself with a screwdriver. We'd been left with worsee before.

The first that approached had been met with the flat side of Puck's axe, the animals furious screech echoing in the home for a few seconds before Puck swung once more, this time the crunch of decapitation stopping any other motions from the beast. Two climbed in through the window beside us all, and another ran from the front door, screeching and screaming an inhumane sound that had me shaking as I stood as far away frmo everyone as possible, Beth still crying loud shrilled wails in my arms.

Quinn swung her bat hard, and it landed sqaure against one of the animals cheeks, a whine echoing only for a moment before it came back towards her. She swung again, and it was almost as though she hadn't done a thing at all. The body kept moving forward, screeching and growing angrier as she swung hard, stopped only when Tina came from begind and drove her knife into its throat. As it turned, she shoved the sharp metal in through its eye socket, the most sickening sound of crunching and slosh mixing in with Puck's grunts as he attempted to pull his now lodged axe out from the wall.

I stood in horror for a long moment, screaming only when I heard the unmistakeable sound of one of the creatures behind me, its low gurgling right beside my ear. It sniffed a moment before growling and moving to swat at Beth. Quinn was there in an instant driving her bat hard against the creatures head. It stumbled back, but came rushing forth with more fury than before. Quinn readied herself, unfortunately neither of us had caught the last one roundig the corner in a mad dash for a kill of its own. It bumped into the first, which stumbled forward and nearly on top of Quinn, and ran right for Beth and I.  
All thought ceased for a few seconds, and Beth was out of my arms and replaced with a frying pan before I even realized what I was doing.

My first swing caught only the animals hand, but the second was square at its face. I hadn't expected it to fall, but as I stood in palce shocked, Puck's axe was flying downwards over its neck, severing it with a heavy blow.

The silence came again, which unsettled everyone if the looks on the faces around me were any indication.

Why weren't there more? Certainly we had made enough noise. It appeared as if Puck accepted our luck, shrugging and pulling his lodged weapon from the floor, before turning in search of the little girl he'd been reunited with just recently. He moved for the living room, calling out over his shoulder for Quinn to check the basement for the girl.

"No," I retorted all too quickly. Both of them eyed me oddly, but Quinn hadn't seen Shelby yet, and I could only guess Puck had missed it while he reunited with his daughter; I could imagine his mind being completely one tracked. "I'll go, she shouldn't...I'll go."  
"You're not going alone." Quinn fought, her brow arching, daring me to fight her on it.  
It was tempting, and not because Shelby's body swayed below our feet but because I missed her. I missed our small squabbles, I missed the way she'd play wrestle with me, the way she tackle me to her bed whenever we struggled to pick a Netflix show we both agreed on. But seeing the corners of her lips curve into a smile, undoubtedly remembering the very same thing I was, my resolved died. "You really shouldn't," I tried one finaly time, knowing it would do nothing to stop her. "But I won't fight you."

This seemed to make her realize there was something wrong, something worse than me just being protective and not wanting her to go in fear of injury.

As we walked down the steps, I wondered if I should warn her, or tell her before she saw it herself. But I wasn't sure how to. I didn't know what the proper protocol was for this. I knew she'd at the very least be angry, but I couldn't even begin to imagine what her other reactions might be.

We reached the bottom much too soon, and I grabbed her arm before she could turn the same corner Brody and I had. "Quinn," Her eyes feel to mine, worried for whatever I might say next. I wondered what she must have thought I was going to say. "I don't know how to say this, or if I should tell you ahead of time...but I don't think you should go any further." Quinn's gaze shifted from confusion, to pained in fewer seconds than it took for her to stop breathing. Immediately I felt horrible for not clarifying, knowing she must have jumped to the worst scenario possible with Beth being her main concern. "It isn't Beth, she is indeed alive and well. That was her upstairs," Releif flooded her, and I watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed, though her eyes looked past me in curiosity as to what else there could be. And then they had that same reddening look Beth held just moments ago.

She must havee seen her, Shelby swaying just slightly in the distance behind me. My body too short to cover it. "Quinn...Quinn I'm so sorry. I know she was supposed to take care of Beth. I truly thought she'd do that, I never would have thought she'd abandon her this way. I wished I known- or..I wished I could have done something...maybe stopped her..I don't know. I'm so so-" My lips are incapable of moving, Quinn's perfectly soft one pressed firmyl against them, cutting off my rambling before I'd even gotten started.  
In that short moment, my body burned with a longing I'd known only once before; and at the time I was drunk and surrounded by Quinn's scent as she helped me change into some of her clothes at Yale. I still had the Yale sweater in my bag Brody and I left at our old place. The place before now, before finding Quinn. "You should't be apologizing," Quinn's voice is hoarse, her cheeks now damp with fresh tears. "Everyone else should be. Your mom-" Her eyes flick to behind me again, words stopping as she loses them mid-thought.

She doesn't get the chance to finish her sentence, and I'm incapable of registering the screaming sound coming from Tina up the steps until Quinn is no longer in my personal space; though her hand wraps firmly around my wrist to drag me with her.

We'd kissed other places, many times I'd find the courage to kiss impossibly close to the corner of her lips, and she to mine. It was almost like a game of chicken, and we both lost every time. But right now it shouldn't be my focus, I should focus on the group beofre my eyes, fighting off yet another beast, Brody shouting out in great pain as Puck swings his axe. Quinn's hand hasn't left my wrist, her body standing before mine protectively, Beth clinging to my leg as Tina composes herself and attacks the creature with Puck.

My gaze finds Beth petrified one, an arm wrapped around my leg, the other stretched with her fingers clinging to Quinn's jean clad leg as well. I want now, more than before, more than I ever have, I want. I want to live, I want Quinn, I want the nights at Yale and family I pictured having for so many years, living in a wonderrful home with my many Tony's on display. All of these have existed before. But for the first time in my life, it all seems so possible.

It all no longer feels like a fairytale, but an inevtiable reality.

Because Quinn was inevitable.


	5. Day Seventeen

**A/N: Hello guys, just wanted to say that I wouldn't mind having a beta to read the chapters for this fic before I update. If anyone is interested, let me know through private messaging here.**

* * *

**Day: 17**

**Time: 8:47 AM**

Her fingers start again, the nails just scraping over my scalp, gentle voice humming a tune I hadn't heard before, and lips pressing softly to my temple. She almost seemed to be in a state of bliss, one I'd yet to see her in before, one I didn't think possible with the way the world was turning to be these days. I was positive that bliss only lived in dreams now, but as I continued to have nightmares night after night, I realized that bliss only existed in those that could be happy with the little things.

Beth's melodic chime of a giggle sounded from outside our tent, the green fabric dirty and worn from use. I wasn't yet accustomed to sleeping outdoors, and I certainly wasn't prepared for what little the woods offered privacy wise, but I was living. And I had Quinn Fabray's fingers dancing through my hair. If I kept my eyes shut, I could fall asleep, I could pass out this very second and possibly sleep the entire day away; but I craved her too deeply. Those hazel eyes called to mine with too great a yell. And her gentle voice called for me, stopping any chance I had at falling back asleep.

Her hair was now longer than it was when we last saw each other, and I relished in the ability to feel how smooth it still was, my drowsy arm moving to tangle in soft blonde hair. "Good morning," she whispered, as if afraid to break the morning bliss with her voice alone. I was positive that such a thing was an impossibility. Even if we were suddenly ambushed, I would be perfectly at peace now that I knew the one girl I fought so hard for all my life was alive and well.

I smiled to her, unable to form words still. It was hard to speak now, after watching what had come of the one man I'd spent so long trusting my life with. It was hard, losing so many people I had believed would stay with me until the very end. Puck had asked every night since they found me to tell him what happened, but I never could. I didn't think I could relive the horrors of Kurt's death, or tell them that Blaine had ended his own life. I was certain they all believed he fought valiantly. I didn't want to take that idea away from them, he deserved that much. Having fought on even without the love of his life was fighting valiantly in my eyes; but I couldn't be sure it was the same for them. "Would you like some breakfast?" Her voice interrupts again, though quieter still now.

"Can we just stay here a little longer?" I ask my throat burning from how little I did speak as I move my fingertips to slip down her shoulder and over her bicep. It's firm, stronger than I'd seen it before. "Can we just...pretend?" Her eyes shine for a moment, and without another word she shifts, pushing herself up from her laying position, placing far too much distance between us.

Instinctively I follow her movements, at which she laughs lightly. "I'm not going anywhere." Her whisper is a promise, both of us clearly aware of that much. Whatever this was this fire that held steady between us both, I couldn't explain. It was so warm, and there were moments, moments when silence fell in the most content of times, where that fire would explode, and something electric happened. I still wasn't one hundred percent sure she felt it as well, which was why I have yet to bring it up, that, and for now I'm perfectly content with the way this is. Peaceful, uncomplicated.

My eyes fall down to her lips, the ones that had yet to touch mine since the basement, the ones I practically yearned for. They're so beautiful, but then all of Quinn was. Her mind, her face, her skin, her eyes, everything. She was the prettiest girl I ever met. Absolutely breathtaking no matter the time of day. "Do you want me to kiss you?" She teases. The sight of her pearly white teeth wake me from my thoughts, and I smile bashfully to her darkening hazel eyes.

"Yes," I breathe, shaking my head with mild embarrassment.

Her body moves again, leaning in closer to my own. Her lips are still curved in her taunting grin, eyes sparkling with a playfulness I saw only when we drank together. She was pretending everything was like it used to be. This was no longer a tent but her dorm room, and my body wasn't steadily falling back to a sleeping bag but her plushy bed that had small text books scattered about it every which way. "Are you nervous?"

The game was clear now, one of Quinn's favorites whenever I was beginning to grow too tipsy. It was the one way I knew she trusted me so fully, allowing me to lose some inhibitions and still touch me, tease me in a way that had me almost begging for it, for her. In college it was simply fun and exciting; in a tent on the verge of the end of the world? It was exhilarating. I could feel every breath she breathed paint my lips with warmth, and her eyes grew darker with each one of my heartbeats. "No."

One of her hands comes to rest mid-thigh, her palm warm against my skin, erupting into goosebumps under her touch. She repeats her question, face inching in closer to mine as my back lands fully on the bed below us, head resting on the pillows. "No." My words are firm, refusing to show any sign of apprehension as her fingers tease higher, palm slipping further up until it hits the very bottom of my sleep shorts; ones borrowed from Quinn Fabray herself.

"I always loved seeing you in my clothes," Her voice dropped an octave, sending a soft shiver to shoot through me. "I'm a little possessive, I guess." She giggles, and leans in further though not enough to actually place a kiss to my ever so impatient lips. "You remember that weekend we rented that house next to the lake? The one with the row boat? You were so nervous that it would tip every time I tried to paddle us out." Another soft giggle, another rush of butterflies as I felt every single breathy whispered word fall from her beautiful lips.

"It did."

"Only after you tried to climb out of it and back on the dock," her chuckle was husky, and had me all but squirming under her, ready for contact, any kind of contact. Anything that made Quinn Fabray closer to me. "You got soaked, and I had to get a new phone because of how impatient you got." Without any clue as to where this was going I simply nodded my head, remembering very well the exact date that Quinn spoke of, it was the first time we truly spent a weekend alone, and it was marvelous. I had never felt so comfortable, so at home in all of my life. The cabin was beautiful, surrounded by trees and birds that sang with the sunrise. It was so green, I almost refused to leave.

"I told you that I wanted to stay there forever." I reminded her, the awaiting kiss forgotten now as I relived one of my happiest moments with a dear friend that was so clearly so much more than that. "I said that we should just run away, it was near finals and we were both so stressed out. I hated seeing you locked away in your room with all those books. It was our escape."

"Just ours." Quinn reaffirmed, saying something that I couldn't exactly understand at the moment. I was far too dazzled by her eyes, sparkling with a life I'd only seen on that day, and the others like it. The days where we had only each other and no other worries in the world.

"You guys want breakfast?" Noah's obnoxious voice sounds from outside the tent, his hand beating on the fabric to the best of his abilities. My groan is louder than I would have liked, and as reality slides back into focus so do the questions I hated having. What on Earth was Quinn thinking? What were we? Was this still a game of chicken? Was she simply letting me go back to the comfortable world we lived in before, or was she truly going to kiss me? The insecurities filled the tent, ruining the good mood I'd held.

"I don't think Rachel's all that hungry right now, maybe in a couple minutes." Quinn answered for me, smiling adoringly at my clearly unamused face. She hadn't looked away, despite Noah's persistent questions, wondering if Quinn wanted some, to which she simply replied with 'later'.

Through it all her gaze never left mine, almost as though she were afraid if she looked away, I'd be gone.

I knew the feeling all too well.

"You had a nightmare last night."

I wasn't so sure you could call it a nightmare, really it was more like a horrific memory. Brody's body laying on the kitchen floor in a pool of his blood. They had left him for dead, happy with the fact that he was simply down and with zero chance of living. I remembered the way they simply forgot him, and in my dream it was almost as if the creatures were still people, as if they were actually capable of thoughts and feelings, possibly even communication.

The way they stood over his fading form, how one seemed more in charge than the other, and the way all of them dispersed the moment the first had scoffed and grunted away. There were so many, and every horror film I've ever been forced to watch with Noah had told me they craved flesh like a vampire crave blood, clearly this wasn't factual in the real world.

"I'll be okay, it was nothing." I lied as convincingly as I could, however, Quinn always could see right through me. She had this ability to see me no matter what I tried to hide behind; joy, fear, anger, nothing ever worked against her. Of course, one could debate that no one could best the master of disguise.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her gaze holds mine for a moment, before finding the mess that is my bed head. It almost looks as if it hurts her to look at it, possibly the fact that the last time she'd seen me with it, we didn't have to worry about the other being killed.

"I don't know,"

"It helps, you know, talking about it. I know that's probably hilarious coming from me, but it does." Her hand found its way back to my hair, a finger twirling a single strand as she simply stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything. There's no pressure under her gaze, only care and adoration, two looks I'd grown so used to in the months that followed our departure from McKinley.

With a heavy breath, I drop my gaze from her own, attempting to find the strength to truly revisit these memories. Kurt's was the worse loss I felt, and oddly Brody was almost like watching a stranger be murdered. I didn't recognize who he was by the end of it all, but I still remembered who he used to be. I remembered what he once was capable of being. A great Broadway star that would shine with the best of them. Unfortunately, neither of us would find such endings. "Maybe later? I just woke up, I don't want to...I'm going to have another nightmare tonight, may as well talk about it then instead of starting my day off with those memories." I attempted a smile, but was certain it looked more sad than encouraging or apologetic.

Quinn returned it, hers just as sad and sympathetic. Clearly she understood, but I couldn't imagine with who she had felt that with. Puck had survived, and so had Beth, and somehow I simply couldn't see Santana Lopez not surviving in a zombie apocalypse. Actually, I imagined her leading the hoard of zombies, finding a way to control them and making their first objective to destroy my clothing back home.

The sun was high in the sky when we finally decided to step out and eat something, and I was immediately bombarded by Beth, tackling my legs as Quinn and I moved in to see what was left to munch on. Our base was nothing more than a well hidden camp site, the woods proved to be a much better hiding place than the old folks home Brody and I stayed in. There were berries that grew here, and water was decently easy to find if you knew how to; Puck was still training me on that front. As far as weapons went, I knew little to nothing, a novice from the very start surrounded by a group of people that seemed to have fighting down to a routine.

Tina seemed the most offended by that, rolling her eyes and mumbling something about how typical it was for men to want the women to run and hide. I was elated to see her feminist ways hadn't vanished in all of this. It kept things normal, or as normal as they could be.

Quinn placed a plate in front of me, the main dish of beans and the side corn. It wasn't much, but I knew she was at least trying to keep me on my vegan diet. She had been since we hid out here, scavenging for berries instead of letting Puck cook me farm grown eggs and store bought hot dogs. I doubted they were still fresh, but he swore they were fine for a few days. Of course, not even Quinn let Beth eat them, which told me far more about the truth than I wanted to know.

The day passed on, Puck hunted for some dinner meat, Quinn demanding he find me some fresh berries or at the very least catch me a fish. The idea hadn't completely appalled me, though I wasn't overly comfortable with the idea.

Tina played with Beth, showing her what a Gameboy Color was, apparently having kept it with her all these years. I hadn't thought about that, keeping things to entertain myself for when the silence and lack of objectives became almost impossible to handle. I was so used to it, being protected by Brody to a degree that truly had me worse off than he thought. Now it seemed everyone wanted me as prepared as possible, for the sake of potentially not being in the benefit of having someone at my guard. I looked to Quinn at that thought, who was enamored by Beth and Tina, watching as her little girl played her first video game in the new world.

By the time the moon was shining above us, and Beth was tucked away and well fed, Noah was already hounding me for answers, more interested in the stories than the fact that I, the equivalent of his little sister as he'd put it, had been witness to these atrocities. Either way, he was on the edge of his seat, scruff noticeable in the flickering light of the fire. It hardly seemed bright, all the campfire was was a homing beacon for the animals to find us, or worse, those looking for supplies and ready to kill whoever stood in their way for them. Something told me these three had seen as much already, noted by their routine parameter checks. "Come on, please? We need a good horror story to share around the fire." His excited self bounced as he sat on the grass, tossing a thin twig into the fire.

"She doesn't have to do anything she's not comfortable with." Quinn's stern voice spoke from behind me, back from her turn to check the area. As she sat, she placed a comforting hand to my back, the other over Beth's thin shoulder. Since finding her, Quinn didn't touch Beth much, and I couldn't be sure, but I felt it was out of fear. Not wanting to grow attached because if she was ever lost, it would completely destroy her. Though, she did take a few small steps forward; tossing a rock with Beth as a form of catch.

"I guess I'm just not sure what there is to say. Kurt got sick," Immediately I saw the image of the open sores on his skin, wincing at the memory, I struggled to continue. "He looked awful, and he got so angry. It wasn't- I'd never seen him so hostile. Not just to me but Blaine, and anyone that tried to see him." His screech rang through my ears, and I had to swallow down the lump in my throat before I sobbed at the sound. Warmth surrounded my form soon after, Quinn's secure arm holding tightly to my body as I tried very hard not to let the memories affect me so horribly.

"Blaine lasted a few days after that. He protected me the most, and I think it was because of Kurt. I think he felt he owed it to him to protect his best friend but..." I hadn't shared this information yet, and I was petrified of doing so. I didn't want them to think little of him, I didn't want them to blame him for me being left with Brody, and I certainly didn't want to hear them call my best friends lover weak. "He loved Kurt. I've only seen my fathers hold that much love for someone, I thought it was rare and maybe it still is, but he loved him so much. I couldn't imagine having to survive in this world, knowing what Kurt turned into. Having watched it before his very eyes...and the nightmares. There wasn't a night that went by where Blaine wasn't screaming for Kurt, and then beating himself up about it whenever he thought they would come for us.

"Brody and I woke up to a gunshot one morning, and we were so sure that we were being attacked. But I ran to Blaine's room, having gotten so used to hiding behind him it was my first instinct." I paused to see the faces around me, Puck's solemn one changing some, almost as if he were ashamed, Tina's eyes tearing up as she undoubtedly remembered all of her old friends. Quinn was the most perplexing, eyes lost somewhere in the fire, face hidden behind her mask she hadn't used in years. I was so used to her walls being down around me that I wasn't sure how to continue. I didn't know how not to focus on her, clearly she was in pain, but I couldn't figure out why. I couldn't figure out what I'd said that hurt her so, and Puck was quick to encourage me to continue.

My eyes never left hers as I continued, worried as to what she might be thinking. "When I saw him, he had a pool of blood around his head, and his face was almost unrecognizable. He'd shot himself in the side of the head."

I chose not to relive Shelby's death, what with Beth so close by, and Quinn still refusing to acknowledge her anger over the one woman that promised to protect her child failing to do so. But the silence that followed was almost unbearable, and I silently begged someone to say something. I just couldn't handle it, the silence let all of the fears creep in, and then I'd never get to sleep tonight. "Why wouldn't they let anyone out or in New York?"

Puck's face was now angry, his fists twisting in each other as he fought to stay in control. I'd noticed lately there were times where it got out of hand, and I wasn't sure if I should be worried or relieved that he at least found an outlet for the fury. "I guess they didn't want the disease to spread, they never really told us." His only reply was a scoff, but he stopped his questions there, opting for silence instead.

"We were being told that they were lining up people and shooting them point blank, and that anyone that so much as sniffled was killed. I really thought..." I took Quinn's hand in my own before she could finish speaking, relishing in the fact that I was capable of being the few to see her so vulnerable. I knew this was nothing, she'd show me more in the tent when we returned to it. She'd show me everything that she'd been fighting off for so long, and I'd be the lucky girl that got to comfort her..

"I'm here," I whispered to her, fingers drawing small figures on her back. "I'm not going anywhere." She chuckles slightly, and suddenly her eyes are darkening once more. I could only imagine she remembered our game in the tent, how close we had come to kissing, really kissing. One we couldn't blame on alcohol or a fun night out or truth or dare.

I shuddered under their gaze, remembering every intimate moment I shared with the blonde.

"Do you want to go to bed?" She asked, those eyes seeing nothing else but me. Somewhere there's the sound of Puck's whistling, a cat-call in the midst of the apocalypse. Only Noah Puckerman.

"Would talking be involved?"

"If you want to talk about something, I will always listen."

"Lame." Noah grumbled, hoisting himself off the grass and towards Beth. He'd taken it upon himself to keep Beth in his tent, not minding the early mornings as he used them to hunt the most. Tina followed suit, flashing me a happy smile before hugging us both goodnight.

Quinn and I were left to put out the fire, but somehow, as I stared into her gorgeous eyes, I felt as if we would only manage to ignite it further.


End file.
